Francis Scott Key

I gaze along the shore as the tide starts to recede

The roots create steps, but boy, they can mislead

Hop into the submarine, yet I'm still soaring high

But it's all right with me cause I got all I need to fly

I slither down the rapid stretches with a furrowed brow

I worry that my submarine is leaking near the bow

I hop up from the captains seat to poke around and see

But as I stand she runs afoul of a sunken tree

I swim back to the bank while my soggy hair hangs down

I glance upon the rapids where my sub did run aground